


sunshine in your eyes

by rierin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon Universe, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance, mentions of pirate england
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29743413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rierin/pseuds/rierin
Summary: The weather is beautiful the day Arthur tries to apologize.
Relationships: England/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	sunshine in your eyes

The weather is beautiful the day Arthur tries to apologize. It's not surprising— he's in the Spanish countryside in the middle of summer. The mercilessly bright sun seems to only heighten his anxiety, and the bouquet of flowers he's bought a few hours ago didn't fare so well in the hot weather, either.  
  


It's funny, he thinks, how he still remembers what flowers Antonio likes. What happened between them back in the day was far from what he considers romantic, but there were some brighter moments. In those moments, even though he was at his worst, Arthur felt almost human.  
  


Didn't change the fact he was a monster.  
  


His heart is pounding in his chest as he knocks at the door to Antonio's house. It's quite modest, at least compared to how he's seen some of the other nations live, but it looks cozy, with grape vines climbing on the clean white walls. There's a sitting area composed of two chairs and a table on the porch, a basket of fresh fruits placed the table.  
  


Nobody responds; he knocks again. Was Antonio not home? Arthur didn't let him know he was coming— Antonio would be even less likely to answer the door if he knew— but he asked Francis what Antonio would be up to today to make sure he wouldn't be coming here for nothing. And according to Francis, Antonio should be home now.  
  


He sighs, and looks at the narrow path leading to the garden behind the house. It's a lovely summer afternoon. Maybe Antonio is somewhere out there.  
  


The garden is not a flower garden. It's mostly green, there are many trees; it looks almost like a natural forest clearing though it's well-kept and there's an arbor by a small pond. There's no one there, so he walks past a wooden fence barely visible from behind a row of thick bushes, and that's where he finds a vegetable garden— and Antonio. He's kneeling on the ground by what looks like tomato plants, carefully inspecting the stems and the leaves, cutting some parts here and there. He's wearing a straw hat, and the simplest shirt and pants, but even so, he looks dazzling. Arthur's heart squeezes. He feels out of place here in his fancy suit and hat. Why did he dress like that again?  
  


Antonio is so concentrated on his task he doesn't even notice him. Only when Arthur clears his throat Antonio looks up. His eyes widen, but it only lasts a second— he immediately shifts into that cheerful smile he always seems to be wearing these days.  
  


"England! What brings you here? If you're looking for France, he's probably, uh, in France?" He gives that fake, stupid laugh he's been using on anyone who tries to have a serious conversation with him. And the thing is— Antonio really is bright, really does laugh easily, but when it's genuine, he sounds nothing like this. It's beautiful, rich, free. Arthur hasn't heard him laugh like that in so long.  
  


"I came here to see you."  
  


"Ah, really? That's too bad, as you can see, I'm a little busy. But I'm sure we can see each other at...whatever world meeting is coming up next."  
  


"Antonio." Arthur says, purposely using his human name. Antonio hasn't called Arthur by his name in years. Sometimes Arthur wonders if he even still remembers it. "Stop doing that."  
  


Antonio hums tilts his head. "Doing what?"  
  


"Acting like that!" Arthur snaps, then pauses, takes a deep breath. "Just— please. Hear me out?"  
  


There's a pause and finally Antonio gives a sigh. He stands up, brushes the dirt off his pants, straightens and meets Arthur's eyes. He's still smiling, but it's different. His eyes are distanced and wary.  
  


"Fine. I'll hear you out."  
  


Arthur swallows nervously. "I'm here… to apologize." He pushes the bouquet into Antonio's hands, and he accepts it automatically, staring at it with an unreadable expression. "I know no words can make up for what I did but... if there's anything I can do... Just tell me if you can ever forgive me."  
  


Antonio is quiet, his eyes fixed on the flowers, but he doesn't seem to really see them.  
  


"It's been decades, Arthur," he finally says. "Why are you here now?" He looks up, his eyes flashing, and even though his expression is full of anger, Arthur likes it more than the fake cheerfulness. It's honest. And he deserves the anger. And he's always liked the way Antonio's eyes look when he's furious, deep and dark like a stormy ocean. "Did it take you this long to start feeling apologetic?"  
  


Arthur winces. He knows he's late. But he'd been so lost, it took him a lot of time to put himself together, to get a grip. "I didn't want to see you the way I was before. I wanted to become a better man."  
  


Antonio laughs, but it's not a happy sound.  
  


"You wanted me to tell you what you can do. Well, I'll tell you." He pushes the flowers back into Arthur's hands. "Leave and don't ever come back."  
  


Arthur feels as if his heart was dropped into cold water. He was expecting this. It's not like he ever gets to keep anything good in his life, and it's not like he deserves to. But all this time, the thought of speaking to Antonio was what kept him going, what motivated him to fight the darkness in his heart.  
  


"Antonio, can you please— at least let talk to me, don't treat me like a stranger—"  
  


"We have nothing to talk about." Antonio's eyes are hard. "But fear not, you're not just a stranger." He scowls. "I hate you," he spits. Arthur freezes; it feels like a stab. "I will hate you until forever."  
  


Hate. Arthur didn't think it was that bad. He has nothing to say to that. It dawns on him now, that he must have fucked up worse than he thought. He assumed their relationship was something he could eventually fix. That there was anger here, and resentment, but also... other things, good things.  
  


But all this time, Antonio hated him. And Arthur still had the gall to appear in front of him and stir up all those awful emotions. God, he's such a fuck up.  
  


"I... I see," he says, voice tight as he forces himself to keep a neutral expression. "I won't bother you anymore."  
  


With that, he turns on his heel and leaves as fast as his legs are able to carry him.  
  


He only stops when he reaches the nearby village, as if the sight of a bench by the path leading to the church suddenly makes his legs feel weak. He drops down on it, and his vision blurs as he stares at the bouquet he's still clutching in his hands.  
  


It hurts. And he doesn't know how to deal with it. He used to deal with his emotions by ravaging and plundering, drinking, killing, or having rough sex. But he's supposed to be a gentleman now.  
  


"Mister, why do you look so sad?"  
  


Arthur looks up, blinking the tears away. There's a girl standing in front of him, maybe ten years old. She has clever, dark eyes and tanned skin. She's dressed in a simple white dress, and there's a red ribbon in her hair. She's holding an empty basket.  
  


He gives her a shaky smile, quickly comes up with an excuse. "I'm sad because the flowers are going to wither soon."  
  


She tilts her head, glancing at the bouquet. "Why won't you give them to someone?"  
  


"I don't really have anyone I can give them to... anymore."  
  


"I know someone who loves these flowers! I could take them." She pauses as if remembering her manners. "Um, if you don't mind, sir."  
  


"Not at all." He hands her the bouquet. "I hope they like them."  
  


She immediately puts them in the basket. "Thank you, sir! Please don't cry anymore. Promise?"  
  


"I'll try," he answers evasively. She nods, seemingly satisfied.  
  


"You are handsome. I'm sure you will find a nice lady to give flowers to," she says in a sagely tone which normally probably would make Arthur chuckle. Right now, though, he can barely force himself to smile.  
  


She nods to herself, then glances at the sun. It's still as bright as before, seems to be mocking Arthur in his miserable state, but it's lower now, already beginning its descend towards the horizon. "Oh, I have to go!" The girl exclaims. "Goodbye, sir!"  
  


His throat is still painfully tight but he keeps smiling as he watches her run off. He can cry later, when he gets back home.  
  


~*~  
  


The next world conference where both he and Spain are present is held in a raging storm. The weather doesn't bother Arthur— even on the sea, he wasn't afraid of storms. Back then, he found them thrilling. Right now, he just considers them a mild nuisance.  
  


Neither the grumbling thunder nor the pouring rain can distract him from the sick feeling in his stomach. He avoids looking at Antonio, except for the first, accidental glance, when he notices Antonio is wearing red with golden embroidery woven into the fabric. Those colors always seem to make him glow. It's fascinating how easily he can change from a simple countryside boy to a vision so dazzling and luxurious he looks like he stepped out of a fairytale.  
  


His beauty only heightens Arthur's pain. He avoids looking in his direction after that.  
  


During the break, he leaves the room and walks as far away from it as possible. On the other side of the building, he stands by a glass door leading to a balcony. It's firmly shut, and for a moment he considers opening it and stepping out into the rain just to feel something.  
  


But of course, he can't. It'd ruin his outfit. He's a gentleman now and the soaked rat look doesn't suit him anymore.  
  


"You've really changed," a voice speaks behind him, and Arthur turns to look at Antonio. He approaches him slowly, his stance relaxed, and he stands close— too close. Arthur could count his eyelashes. Or not. Antonio has always had an unfair amount of them.  
  


There's an earring glinting in Antonio's ear and Arthur looks at it just to avoid looking at his face. It's a small stone the color of Antonio's eyes. It looks familiar. He'd seen it before… back then. It's a wonder Antonio hadn't lost it somewhere on the sea.  
  


"You know, back in the day, everyone feared you," Antonio says.  
  


Arthur was scared of himself too. He was a cold, cruel, bloodthirsty monster. And it was so hard to get out of that place in his mind, and then face all the things he had done.  
  


He doesn't tell Antonio any of that.  
  


"Did you fear me?" he asks instead; quiet, as he's not sure he wants to know the answer.  
  


"Oh, I thought you were terrifying," Antonio laughs. "I would have run away screaming if I hadn't been too busy spreading my legs."  
  


Arthur sputters. "That's- you-" He gives a pained groan, pressing his hand to his forehead. "Don't say such things."  
  


Antonio hums. "If I remember correctly, you love dirty talk. Anyways," he continues before Arthur can protest, "I wasn't scared. At that point I'd seen too much horror caused by my own people to be scared of an unruly pirate abroad."  
  


Arthur snorts humorlessly. He turns his head to look at the dark, heavy sky outside. "If only that was all I were."  
  


Antonio puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder and gives it a comforting rub. Arthur is so surprised by the touch he tenses; and then he doesn't dare to move or blink, not wanting to scare Antonio away.  
  


"You know, more than anything..." Antonio says softly, "I was in love with you."  
  


A thunder roars across the sky, accompanied by a dazzling flash of lightning ,but Arthur barely notices it as he gives Antonio a disbelieving look. "You... back then?"  
  


Antonio chuckles. "What can I say, you had that roguish charm. And I was always kind of stupid." He sighs. "I never know what's good for me."  
  


Arthur's heart aches. The sense of loss is even greater now. If only he'd been a different person then... He was so self-centered he didn't even notice Antonio's feelings. He thought it was something good but…never something long term. He hadn't realized how he himself felt until it was too late. Until Antonio told him it was over and Arthur, wounded, not even understanding why he was hurting, retaliated by saying the cruelest things he could think of.  
  


"I wish..." he says and then stops himself. He promised not to be so selfish anymore. But Antonio gives him a questioning glance, curiosity shining in his eyes.  
  


"Hm?"  
  


"It's nothing. Just, if I wasn't such an asshole, maybe you'd still have... at least...some positive feelings for me."  
  


"I never said I didn't have any," Antonio says quietly.  
  


"But you— you said— you said you _hated_ me!"  
  


"I was furious with you!" Antonio huffs. "You've been ignoring me for years. I felt like a fool, once I'd finally stopped daydreaming about you appearing in front of me with flowers and apologies— there you were." He scowls. "Ugh, just thinking about it makes me mad."  
  


Right. Arthur was so busy wallowing in self-pity he didn't even consider Antonio's temper. For someone so sweet, he could be a handful when he got angry.  
  


"So you don't… don't hate me?" It comes out so pathetic he winces, and Antonio laughs. He doesn't answer for a moment, just watching Arthur with twinkling eyes, as if savoring his bafflement and embarrassment.  
  


"You know what's funny? After you left, Andalusia brought me the flowers. She said she got them from a gentleman by the church." He pauses, tilting his head. "She said the gentleman was crying."  
  


Arthur inhales sharply. Of all dumb coincidences— and how did he not realize the little girl was a region of Spain?  
  


"You never showed any real emotions in front of me. You used to be... well. Out of your mind. And now you're so stiff and proper." Antonio shrugs. "Either way, you're hard to read. I never knew how you felt about me at all. Even when you apologized, I wasn't sure you weren't just playing with me." He drops his eyes to the ground and he looks so dejected Arthur's heart clenches. "But when she said that you cried I... I realized maybe you did feel something."  
  


The urge to let Antonio know just how much he feels is overwhelming, but he can control himself better than that now. Even so, he can't stop himself from taking Antonio's hand in his. Antonio looks up; his eyes are wide and vulnerable, the kind of expression Arthur can't imagine showing anyone. Antonio has always been better at being open with people, even though he's also exceptionally good at hiding and pretending.  
  


"I care about you," he says, and then frowns at how dry it sounds. Stiff and proper, Antonio said. But when Arthur gave up the pirate life he felt like he had to go from one extreme to another to get a hold of himself, and now he's used to acting this way. "I really do," he adds, tone determined even as he feels himself flush. "I would like to try again… if you'll have me.”  
  


Antonio blinks. His eyes are so warm and full of emotion, they look like rays of sun dancing on the surface of the sea. Antonio reminds him of his past on the sea in so many ways— but only the good parts of it.  
  


Arthur fully expects Antonio to say no, explain that he'd rather be friends, and Arthur would accept that gratefully— it would still be more than he thought he could have. But Antonio takes a deep breath and says:  
  


"Yes. I'd like that."  
  


Just that. Arthur stares at him for a moment, so surprised he doesn't know how to react. His heart feels like it's going to burst, and he has the urge to laugh, but his voice is stuck in his throat. And then his vision blurs and— he realizes he's crying.  
  


"Oh, Arthur," Antonio breathes. The sweet, tender tone he uses when he says his name only brings more tears to Arthur's eyes. He hasn't heard Antonio say his name in so long. And it's like something inside him cracks and he just can't stop the sobs shaking through him. It's strange, he never cries in front of others, and yet...  
  


And then Antonio pulls him into an embrace, his fingers tangling in Arthur's hair, brushing through it soothingly. Dumbfounded, Arthur returns it instinctively, wrapping his arms around Antonio's waist. The tears just keep coming, and he almost chokes on his breath.  
  


"Shhh," Antonio soothes him sweetly. "It's alright, bebé, it's alright."  
  


"I just— I thought I lost you," Arthur manages to say. Like everyone else. And he keeps telling himself it's fine, but it's really not. He's always, _always_ so alone.  
  


"No," Antonio says with surprising force, and then, softer, as he rubs Arthur's back. "I'm here." His voice trembles with emotions and that's when Arthur really realizes how much Antonio cares. His heart swells, pounds in his chest. He's loved, and it's not conditional, not superficial, not a lie. After all, Antonio loved him at his worst, and he's here now.  
  


Arthur lets himself soak in all the warmth and tenderness like a dried sponge. Antonio smells so good, like summer, like the sea, like warmth, like home. And Arthur is so, so lucky. He soon stops crying but he doesn't let go for a long time, and neither does Antonio.  
  


The storm is still raging outside but Arthur can't remember the last time he felt this calm and safe.  
  


~*~  
  


London doesn't often get snow in winter; Arthur can't even remember the last time the city had a white Christmas.  
  


And yet it's snowing like crazy now, thick flakes covering everything in layers upon layers of white. Arthur's nose and ears feel like they're about to fall off when he and Antonio stumble into the hall laughing after chasing each other in the snow like a couple of kids. Antonio at least is bundled up, wearing a white woolen hat and scarf. He gets cold easily, so Arthur made him wear those. Now he wishes he had the sense to dress warmer too. He couldn't have guessed that Antonio would try to start a snowball fight.  
  


But it's one of the reasons he loves being around Antonio. He reminds Arthur that life can still be fun.  
  


"But it does snow in Spain," Antonio is saying, after Arthur commented he was suspiciously good at snowball fights for a country associated with the sun. Arthur of knows it snows in Spain, but he lets Antonio rant anyway. "It snows a lot! In the northern regions, and in the mountains. Everyone thinks the whole country is warm all year round but it's not like that. It's just that most popular tourist destinations are warm."  
  


"In that case why do you get cold so easily?" Arthur asks, smirking as he unbuttons his coat. Antonio pouts, looks like he's about to stick his tongue out at Arthur, but then he seems to get another idea.  
  


"So you can warm me up," he shots back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  
  


Arthur has the urge to pull Antonio closer, whisper something very inappropriate into his ear and—  
  


He stops that train of thought and clears his throat.  
  


"I'll light the fireplace," he says, and, avoiding Antonio's eyes, he quickly takes off his boots and walks straight to the fireplace in the living room. There are still four logs of cherry wood left from yesterday, it should be enough for the night.  
  


Arranging the kindling and the wood in the fireplace is a welcome distraction from thinking about pressing Antonio against the nearest surface and fucking him senseless. He wants Antonio, of course he does. But he wants to do it properly this time.  
  


"Ahh, it's so pretty!" Antonio exclaims as soon as he steps into the living room. Arthur looks up; Antonio is looking at the Christmas tree, his eyes bright with awe. Arthur smiles. He has to admit, he's proud of it. It's tall, but not overwhelmingly big, fits just right in the corner of the room. Many of the decorations are handmade- he found them at a toymaker's stand while shopping at the Christmas market.  
  


"You get excited over the silliest things," he says, and immediately gets frustrated with himself for not being able to accept a compliment. Antonio just laughs.  
  


"Then give me a better thing to get excited about."  
  


"…Dinner?" Arthur suggests, ignoring Antonio's playful tone and twinkling eyes. Antonio sighs.  
  


"I'm cooking."  
  


Arthur doesn't protest. Antonio is laid back about most things, but when he sees Arthur, as he puts it, 'ruining food', he gets genuinely angry. It's just not worth it.  
  


Besides, in Arthur's opinion, Antonio may actually have the right to call Arthur's cooking bad— unlike, say, Francis. The food Antonio makes is incredible, nothing like the pretentious fancy looking but slimy tasting French crap. It's hearty and filling and delicious.   
  


Antonio jokingly tells him to stay away from the kitchen, but Arthur joins him anyway, sitting at the table chatting with Antonio and watching him cook. Arthur likes that Antonio looks so at home in his kitchen. And he's so content when he cooks; smiling and humming upbeat melodies and giggling at Arthur's snarky comments about the other nations; mostly Francis and Gilbert. Antonio laughs first, then attempts to defend them; Arthur thinks he's too good for them.  
  


Once they finish eating, Arthur makes hot chocolate and they sit in front of the fireplace. Antonio wraps himself up in a blanket, and with his hands wrapped around the hot chocolate mug, his eyes sparkling in the firelight, he looks like a kid on a Christmas night staying up to wait for Santa. It's not Christmas yet, but the thought makes Arthur smile. He has the urge to kiss Antonio.  
  


And this time he doesn't resist it.  
  


It's brief and sweet, and Antonio is smiling when Arthur pulls back. "Are we getting to the fun part now?" He sounds eager, and he sets his mug down on the floor.  
  


Arthur curses in his mind. "Oh, were you bored until now?"  
  


"You know what I mean." Antonio tilts his head. "Do you?" He still sounds playful but there's some uncertainty there, too. Arthur bites his lip.  
  


"I just don't want to rush it," he says, and it comes out a bit more defensive than he intended. He just doesn't know how to tell Antonio that he's afraid— of himself. Of what he'd do if he let a more primal part of himself take over. Hurting Antonio is the last thing he wants. And yet, there is a part of him that's still thrilled by the memories of fucking Antonio so hard he cried.  
  


Antonio looks confused now. "Arthur, we've been on, what, 15 dates now? Even if there are cultural differences, I'm sure in most parts of the world that's enough."  
  


Arthur snorts. "Right." But he doesn't make another move, and when Antonio tries to lean closer, he pulls away, frowning. He's irritated, not with Antonio but with himself— but Antonio seems to take it the wrong way.  
  


"Alright," he says brightly, and Arthur immediately recognizes the fake-cheerful smile. "I think I'll go to bed."  
  


And with that, he gets up, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. Arthur looks up, catches the hurt in Antonio's eyes as he turns away, and, without thinking, he grabs his wrist.  
  


"Don't go," he says, even as he feels his face turn red.  
  


Antonio turns back to him, gives a shaky exhale. "What do you really want from me, Arthur?"  
  


Arthur stares at him, his thoughts racing. "What- what do you mean-"  
  


"It just... it seems as if you hate touching me." Antonio's voice trembles as he says it and Arthur's heart sinks. Has he been hurting Antonio by trying not to hurt him? Fuck, he's such a mess.  
  


"That's not— gods. Sit down. Please."  
  


To his surprise, Antonio obeys without protest. He looks at Arthur uncertainly, waiting. Arthur takes a deep breath. He's going to express himself; it won't kill him. It'll certainly hurt less than seeing that look in Antonio's eyes.  
  


"I'm scared I'll hurt you."  
  


"Uh... what?" Antonio looks as if Arthur has just told him that elephants grow on trees.  
  


"You know, back when we..." He trails off, licks his lips. "I was really rough with you."  
  


Antonio furrows his brows. "So?" And then, before Arthur has to force more words out, his eyes widen. "Oh, you think-" And then he giggles. "Oh my God, Arthur."  
  


"What." Arthur flushes, already getting defensive. There's nothing worse to him than being vulnerable and getting laughed at. He'd rather get hit with a cannonball. "What's so funny?!"  
  


Antonio laughs again, then glances at Arthur and seeing his expression, immediately chews on his lip to make himself stop.  
  


"S-sorry. But... what we did… I liked it," Antonio says. "If you're worried about doing that again, then don't worry. Trust me, I won't mind."  
  


"You... liked it?" Arthur knows there's nothing wrong with rough sex but some of the things they'd done were... extreme. It's not that he ever forced Antonio to do anything, but… "All of it?" He can't help but worry Antonio just put up with a lot of it because he was in love with Arthur.  
  


But Antonio nods, calm and only slightly red on the face. "All of it."  
  


"Oh." Arthur feels stupid. "But.. I just... I wanted things to be different this time."  
  


"And they are," Antonio says softly. "I know you care about me. That has nothing to do with sex." His smile turns playful. "Even if you slap me, choke me and call me dirty names, I'll know it's out of love."  
  


Arthur groans and hides his face in his hands. The fact Antonio knows exactly what he's into is both freeing and troublesome.  
  


"You're so cute," Antonio sounds amused. "If someone had told me a few hundred years ago that you would one day be blushing over sex, I would have laughed. You used to be so direct and... forceful about it."  
  


Arthur exhales and lowers his hands. "I still can be." He licks his lips. "Probably too forceful. That's exactly what I was worried about."  
  


"Don't be." Antonio leans closer, his gaze falling on Arthur's lips, his cheeks flushed as he says, "Show me."  
  


This time, Arthur wouldn't be able to hold back even if he wanted to.  
  


"You asked for it," he says with a grin, and he grips Antonio's wrists and pushes him down. Antonio's eyes widen just slightly and then turn hazy when he realizes Arthur is pinning him down to the floor. Arthur remembers that look, has seen it many times before, and it makes the blood rush in his veins. There's so much he wants to do.  
  


But there will be many other opportunities and he wants to take it slow tonight. Even though they're on the floor, it's comfortable on the blankets and pillows and he can take his time. Now that he can calm that beast inside him by the promise of doing whatever he wants at a later time, it's easy to be gentler. He still teases a little more than necessary, revels in seeing Antonio desperate, makes him beg for it. And then he finally takes him apart as the fire crackles in the fireplace and the snow continues to fall outside.  
  


Arthur doesn't mind the snow, but what he's always liked the most about winter is the calm evenings in front of the fireplace, and the contrast between the frozen world outside and the warmth inside.  
  


The contrast seems almost too stark right now. Being so close together, with their breaths mingling, skin brushing, bodies rocking against each other, it feels like they're burning brighter than the cherry wood.  
  


Arthur decides he likes the winter even more this way.  
  


~*~  
  


It's raining on the day Arthur proposes.  
  


It shouldn't rain— they're in Barcelona, in August when the summer is supposed to be dry and hot, and yet, streams of rain insistently fall from the sky. So Arthur's plans of a romantic walk along the beach and proposal by the ocean are ruined. They run down the street, and they get soaked despite Antonio's attempt to use a beach towel to protect them from the rain. They hide under the roof of a small cafe, and Antonio laughs and accuses Arthur of bringing the rain with him.  
  


His hair, curled from the humidity, sticks to his face, and his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are sparkling. Arthur has never seen anything more beautiful.  
  


He's not the spontaneous type, but something in his heart screams to just do it now, even though they're soaked and his romantic plans are ruined. So he pulls the box out of his pocket. Antonio's stares at it with a questioning smile, clearly not suspecting anything, but when Arthur goes down on one knee— he's a gentleman, he's determined to do this properly even if the ground is wet— Antonio's eyes widen with recognition.  
  


"Is this..."  
  


"It's not political," is the first thing Arthur says, his face burning, and he immediately winces at how stiff and official he sounds. "It's just... about you and me," he adds, softer. He opens the box, revealing the ring. It's a gold band with a small emerald, nothing too fancy— it's not that Antonio dislikes pretty things, but he likes simplicity even more. "Will you marry me?"  
  


For a moment, Antonio just stares at him, his mouth open in a little "o", and Arthur's heart pounds in his chest. Did he misread the signs? He'll survive getting rejected, but fuck, if this messes things up between them—  
  


But then Antonio exclaims, "Yes!" and before Arthur can react, Antonio jumps to hug him. Surprised, Arthur loses his balance, and they end up lying on the wet ground, Antonio hovering over him.  
  


"What the— bloody hell, Antonio, like I wasn't wet enough," he complains, but then he realizes he's laughing. That is, until the box slips out of Arthur's hand right into a muddy puddle— he attempts to reach for it, but then he feels wetness on his face that's too warm to be more rain, and he hears a shaky, wet inhale. Antonio is crying, and that's decidedly more important than the ring, no matter how expensive it was.  
  


"Why, what's wrong, love?" He asks, cupping Antonio's face, his heart clenching painfully, which seems to be an automatic reaction to seeing Antonio in any kind of distress. Gods, he's whipped. Antonio makes an intelligible noise, and shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. "Gods, it was that bad?" Arthur laughs, though it comes out a little shaky, because he did want it to be good. He wanted it to be perfect. He brushes Antonio's tears away with his thumbs. "Must have been the worst proposal ever to make you cry like this."  
  


"More like best ever, you idiot." Antonio sniffs, already calmer now. Arthur is now used to those short, intense bursts of emotion from Antonio, but sometimes he's still unsure how to react. "The only real one I ever got," Antonio adds softly, and puts his hand over Arthur's where it's holding his face.  
  


Arthur knows what Antonio means. He's gotten those types of proposals too: cold, calculated. Unwilling.  
  


He has some kind of reply formed in his mind, but it escapes him when he looks into Antonio's eyes, still wet with tears but now crinkled in a grin.  
  


"I love you," he says instead, the words, as always, coming straight from his heart, slipping out so fast he has no time to get flustered. And as always, they make Antonio beam happily, like he's just received the best gift in the world.  
  


Later Arthur complains about how his clothes got all dirty and muddy because of Antonio, and Antonio absolutely doesn't listen to him, instead staring at the ring on his hand with a goofy grin on his face. It's so cute Arthur wouldn't be able to be really mad at him even if he wanted to.  
  


And much later, when they get married, for once, the weather decides to match Arthur's emotions; the London sun seems fond of Antonio, enveloping him in a golden halo when he softly says, "I do."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> me: can we pls hold back with the hard dom arthur headcanon its a fluffy fic  
> my monkey brain: NO
> 
> a-anyway... can you tell how much i love this ship? i also love making arthur sad, it seems. (i adore him, belive me)  
> if you enjoyed it please let me know my confidence drops to -25935923 when i post a fic  
> also drop me a prompt or just be my friend on tumblr @rierin i really need engspa friends,,,
> 
> [contact me on tumblr](https://rierin.tumblr.com) | [support me on ko-fi ♡](https://ko-fi.com/rierin)


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